Satisfying Her Needs: A Hotwife Revealed Story (Her Needs Series)

by Blaise Quin

  “Can’t someone be kind and gentle in a marriage and also be a little more—forceful—in bed?”

  “Maybe. That’s what I had hoped for. But I don’t think it’s like a switch that you can turn on and off, it’s part of what makes certain men what they are. It might not even be what they do in bed, it might just be my reaction to the type of men they are. One man—I won’t mention names—he actually wasn’t very rough when we had sex. But I just knew that he could have whatever he wanted, with me or any other woman. He would just take it. And just knowing he was like that, that he had that power, it was—thrilling. Scary and exciting and dangerous all at once.”

  I couldn’t keep myself from asking, “And I’m not that type of man?”

  Andie squeezed me in a loving hug. “No. And that’s a good thing.”

  “Except for our love life.”

  She shrugged. “It’s a small price to pay.”

  “It might get worse,” I said. “If you keep thinking about it, it will weigh on you. On us.”

  “I know that. It’s why I waited so long to bring it up.” Andie moved her hair away from her face so I could see her clearly. “I want you to know I love you.”

  Suddenly something occurred to me that should have been obvious, but I had been so flabbergasted by Andie’s admission it hadn’t registered. “That’s what you were trying to do. Get me to—be rough with you. Take control.”

  “I’m sorry, I just thought, maybe—.”

  “And I failed pretty miserably, didn’t I?”

  “It’s not a failure. It just isn’t you.”

  “We can still make it work,” I protested. “I can try harder. Or you can—”

  “Try harder?”

  “I was going to say, you can—pretend. That you are with someone else. I can be here with you, and we can keep the lights off, and if you need to you can use your—.” Dildo. Your big black dildo. I couldn’t even say the words. Would the kind of manly guy that Andie obviously needed have any problem saying dildo? But of course she wouldn’t need a dildo with a guy like that.

  I turned away.

  Andie reached for me, cradling me in her arms. “This is why I didn’t want to bring it up,” she said soothingly.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “About everything. You can do what you need to do, you can—fantasize. I think it’s normal, anyway.”

  There was a long silence, Andie holding me tight. “I—I’m so sorry. I have a confession to make. I should have told you. I—I’ve done that before. Thought about someone else.”

  Finally. She’d admitted it. “It’s not a big deal,” I said, not sure if I was trying to convince myself or her. “It’s no different from a guy looking at porn.”

  “Not if he’s in the middle of having sex with his wife. I shouldn’t be doing something like that. It’s not fair.”

  I pulled away from her just a bit so she could see me. Confused and hurt as I was by all this, Andie’s words and selflessness made it clear to me that she really did love me. I’d be the selfish one if I couldn’t contribute to helping out with her problem. No, it wasn’t a problem, it was a need.

  “Andie, listen to me. I really mean this. I want you to be happy. I want us to be happy, and I can’t and you can’t if we leave this unresolved. I’m willing to try anything. If a few fantasies get you excited, then that’s just fine with me. I think most couples do it anyway, at least at some point in their relationships. As long as you are here with me, you can—,” I tried to sound as convincing as I could, “you can think about anyone else you want.”

  “I don’t know, Peter. I appreciate what you are saying, and trying to do, but I just don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what? If you can try? Or—”

  “If it will be enough,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know if it will be enough for me.”

  Her lip quivered, and I thought she was going to cry. I struggled to think of something else, anything that would make this work. “You seemed pretty excited that time last week. Even though I—failed, you seemed really aroused. Didn’t you enjoy that?” I still didn’t want to say I thought she had been fantasizing about the black man at the store, because that would mean admitting I had been spying on her.

  Andie didn’t respond, and even though I had myself just kept a bit of the truth from her, I prompted, “Honesty, remember?”

  Slowly she nodded once, her eyes never leaving mine.

  “Were you thinking of someone else then?” I asked gently.

  After the briefest hesitation, Andie nodded again.

  I gulped, not sure if I wanted to know more. But I’d come this far. “Some random, faceless stranger? Or someone in particular?”

  This time Andie hesitated for a long time. “It doesn’t work if it’s someone I can’t picture. It—it has to be someone I’ve seen. Someone real.”

  “See? That wasn’t so hard.” I tried to sound happy, though my stomach was flipping. It was one thing to suspect it, but another to have your wife tell you that she was thinking about another man as you watched her experience the biggest orgasm you had ever witnessed.

  And maybe she had been doing this in the past, thinking of men she knew. Men she had met. Men that maybe I knew as well.

  “I doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” she said.

  “I know that. And I admit it’s a little hard for me to hear. But you can’t think it’s something you are doing wrong, or that you are being selfish. I’m the one who would be selfish if I got upset about this.”

  “I still don’t know.”

  “Look, I’m sure you’ve done it before. Fantasized, I mean.” I was thinking about her dildo; I’m sure she wasn’t thinking of me whenever she had used it. Andie looked like she was going to say something but I plowed ahead. “Think of it being something for me, too.”

  Andie frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I really loved watching how excited you got. When you were, you know. That look on your face, your arousal, it was glorious.”

  “I think I can understand that. I like seeing you get excited too.” She hesitated. “What I was teasing you about in the restaurant. I was right, wasn’t I? It turned you on, thinking of me with another man.”

  “I, um—.” I didn’t know what to say.

  “This works both ways. If I’m going to tell you what I like, then you need to tell me what you like.”

  “I like to think about you.”

  “With another man?”

  “I swear, I had never thought of that before. I never would have imagined it would excite me. But once the thought was in my head. . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, you saw my reaction in the restaurant. I don’t know what came over me. I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t control it. I had all of these wild thoughts. . .”

  Andie’s eyes widened, and I thought I had gone too far, maybe some things should be left unsaid. But then she smiled and said coyly, “Let’s see if what you are saying is really true. That it would be for your pleasure too.” She paused, considering. “Remember that guy at the restaurant?”

  “The one with the scruffy beard, the rough one?”

  “Well, him, okay, but the other one.”

  “The black guy?”

  “Yes, him. Think about him for a minute. Imagine that I’m with him somewhere, alone, and suddenly he pushes me up against a wall, and starts kissing me, and his hands are all over me, and I struggle but he’s so strong, and. . .”

  I felt myself stir, the picture so clear in my head, but in my mind I had replaced the black man at the bar with the one from the store, seeing Andie in the dressing room, wearing the sexy new outfit, the black man crowding her against the wall, her resistance half hearted. “And what?” I whispered.

  Andie dropped her hand to my crotch, feeling my growing erection. “I try to hold him off, but I’m frozen, I can’t scream or say anything, and my mind is saying one thing but my body is telling me something else, it’s telling him so
mething else. He grabs my breasts and squeezes my nipples, really hard, so hard it hurts.”

  As Andie created her fantasy scene she stroked me, and her other hand went down between her legs to rub herself.

  “Are you thinking of someone right now?” I whispered.

  “A black man,” Andie replied. “He’s big and powerful and I can’t resist him, physically or mentally.”

  I moaned, partially from the way Andie was jerking me off, and even more because of what she was telling me, what she was sharing, what she was confessing.

  “What’s he doing now?”

  “He’s lifting up my skirt, and he’s forcing my legs open, and, and. . .”

  “What?” I croaked.

  “He’s holding me in place with one hand against the wall, he’s so strong, and with his other hand he’s freed himself, and his cock is so big, and I’m scared, and he just grins at me and he’s coming closer, closer. . .”

  Andie was jerking me hard now, and both her shoulders shook, as one hand stroked me and the other rubbed her pussy. “I can’t take my eyes off him, and without any warning he just—pushes himself into me.”

  I wanted to look at Andie, I wanted to see her excitement, but it was too much, my eyes were closed, fully lost in the scene Annie was painting. I could hear her ragged breathing, knowing that’s exactly what she would sound like if she was being taken against a wall by a dominant man, fucking her in a way I had never done, would never have thought of doing, in a dressing room, people not far away, not caring, forcing myself on a woman I had just met, although not really against her will, because she wanted it so much.

  “Can you see it?” Andie whispered, as she bent her face over by cock.

  “Yes, he’s—he’s fucking you.”

  “Hard. He’s fucking me hard, he’s driving me against the wall.”

  Andie was rubbing herself so violently I could hear it, her fingers grinding on her pussy, and in my ear it translated into the sound of the black man’s cock driving into her.

  “You left something out,” I said, not wanting to spoil the fantasy, but I couldn’t help it. “He hasn’t put on a condom, he can’t be fucking you without—”

  Andie interrupted me. “He’s not wearing one. He’s taking me, he doesn’t care about condoms. And I don’t want one on him, I want to feel his cum—”

  That was too much for me. Without warning I shot my load, just as I imagined him shooting into Andie, into my wife, as she grabbed at him, pulling his seed into her. My eyes snapped open to see my hot cum splashing over her face, another thing I’d never done, and as the first spurt hit, Andie moaned loudly and her whole body shook violently, her orgasm ignited by my cum, or more likely by the thought of the black man spurting inside her. I continued to shoot onto her face, and instead of turning away she let herself be covered, and her mouth opened in ecstasy, catching some of me.

  When her spasms finally subsided she lay her head in my lap for a few minutes as we both caught our breath.

  Almost shyly she moved up on the bed to lie next to me. “So you do get excited thinking about it,” she said.

  I couldn’t reply, because she had seen the proof.

  Andie reached up and touched her face, fingering a little of the cum, and then slowly put her finger in her mouth. Then she did it again, and I was mesmerized watching her, licking the cum, cleaning it all off her face, again wondering if even right now she was thinking of it belonging to someone else.

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t control myself,” I said. I’d never come twice so close in time before. I usually needed more than an hour to get ready to go again.

  “Shh,” said Andie, and she brushed her fingers across my lips, and involuntarily I licked them, even the smallest bit of the salty taste making me gag, but also oddly exciting me. It’s only because of what she is doing, I told myself. It’s not the taste of the cum. It’s because of her fantasy, and how excited she got.

  We lay there for a long time, each lost in our own thoughts. Mine, confused, complicated. Feeling that something had changed with us, and while the sex had been wonderful, not sure whether the change was something good or bad.

  As if reading my thoughts Andie said, “Was that too much sharing?”

  I thought a long time before replying. “I don’t think so. I’m glad you told me all this. Even though some of it hurts a little. But it’s good to know. And I’m so happy you got so aroused, it’s something I’ve always wanted to see, and even though you might be thinking of someone else, I still feel part of it.”

  Andie pulled me close to her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For all of it. It was amazing.” She kissed me lightly on the cheek.

  “We can do it, any time you want,” I said. “If it helps.” I waited; part of me hoping she’d say, no, she wouldn’t need it, or wouldn’t need it all the time, that I’d be enough for her, just me. That she wouldn’t need to think of other men, other specific men, to get aroused.

  But instead she repeated, “Thank you,” and I knew that we truly had turned a page, that I had helped open up this Pandora’s box and would now have to live with it. Because it would be impossible now to say no, to refuse, to turn back the clock.

  “I do have one thing I have to ask you,” she said.

  My heart leapt, she was going to tell me that she’d stop if it bothered me. Putting me in control.

  Then a harrowing thought: she was going to ask if she could do it for real, if she could sleep with someone else, with that black man from the store. “What is it?”

  “It’s another thing you said at the restaurant. About me flirting. Is that something you’d want me to do? For real?”

  I was so relieved that she hadn’t asked the other thing, about her sleeping with someone, that without thinking I blurted out, “Yes, that would be fun to watch.” Not for a second considering of the ramifications of what I was saying.

  “I think so too,” Andie mused.

  I have to admit I was intrigued. Seeing Andie flirt with the clerk in the store had started it, of course, but I also wanted to know why Andie would bring this up now. “Why is that?” I asked.

  She gave me another kiss on the cheek. “It will be better than just seeing a guy in a restaurant. If I talk to him, flirt with him, it will give me someone real to fantasize about.” And then she turned on her side, spooning with me, pulling my arm over hers.

  I lay there awake for a long time, my mind spinning, realizing that Pandora’s box was more alluring, and more dangerous, than I had ever imagined.

  Chapter 5

  Two weeks went by, and we didn’t talk about any of it at all. But it hung in the air, the words unsaid, and I could feel subtle differences in Andie that suggested she was thinking about it just as much as I was. We made love just once, both of us not mentioning any fantasy, the sex good, Andie letting me lick her into an orgasm. Yet in the dark room I had my suspicions of who she was thinking about, and I doubted it was me.

  For my part, as nervous and concerned as I was that I was failing her sexually, none of that got in the way of my arousal. Andie still did it for me; if anything I was more excited than ever, sometimes thinking of what she was doing to me, but my mind drawn inexorably to her doing it with someone else.

  The next time I tried to initiate sex she didn’t seem interested; as in the past before all the talk about flirting and fantasizing came up I couldn’t do anything to get her aroused. She jerked me off but it seemed mechanical, like she was doing a duty. I wanted it to be good for her and was about to bring up some kind of fantasy, but I bit my tongue; I wanted to see if she could get turned on with just me. But it didn’t work. I resigned myself to using whatever help I could get, even if it meant another man. At least for now, and certainly limited to someone in a fantasy.

  I remembered—how could I forget?—Andie’s admission that she needed something real, she wanted to fantasize about someone she had seen in the flesh, someone she had spoken with. I tried to think of a way to suggest s
he return to the shopping mall, to see the black man at the store, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Maybe I was afraid of what might happen.

  The next best thing would be what had led to the entire discussion the first time, people watching at someplace public. So one morning, with a lot of trepidation, I eased into the subject.

  “How about dinner out tonight?”

  Andie was reading the morning paper, and without looking up, said, “Sure.”

  I fiddled with my coffee cup. “I was thinking, maybe we could go somewhere nice, where we can, where you can, you know, people watch.” Man watch, is what I really meant.

  That got her attention, and she looked up from the paper. “What do you mean?”

  “I think you know what I mean.”

  Finally, very softly, she said, “I need to hear you say it.”

  I shrugged. “I want you to be able to see someone specific who you’ll be able to fantasize about.”

  She put down the paper. “I’m not sure it’s that easy. I can’t force it. It just happens or it doesn’t.”

  “How will we know if we don’t try?”

  “I just don’t want you getting your expectations up. I might not—see anyone interesting. And if we come home and I can’t. . .” She let the thought trail off.

  “I won’t have any expectations,” I said. “I promise. But we had kind of turned a corner, don’t you think? I thought things were getting better for us, and then it kind of stopped.”

  Andie looked away briefly. “I know. I’m sorry. I think I still might be feeling guilty.”

  “We talked about that. You shouldn’t be.”

  “Saying it doesn’t make it so. It’s just how I feel. I’ve actually tried very hard to not have any fantasies. And to not think of anyone in particular.”

  “It’s hard not to think of something.” Or someone. I wondered who she was trying to force out of her mind.

  “Don’t I know it,” said Andie. Then, after a moment, she said, “Sorry. I guess that came out wrong.”